


Not On Fire

by your_starless_eyes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Camping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fire, Fluff, Kissing, Lakes, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Marshmallows, One is not like the others, Public Masturbation, Sleepy Boys, Timeless, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 03:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13204797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_starless_eyes/pseuds/your_starless_eyes
Summary: The flames lick along the inside of his chest. The smoke fills his lungs. The sweat curls his hair. The heat engulfs his skin. The deadly beauty of the fire entraces his mind as the tongues of orange and yellow dance behind his eyelids.Dan is on fire.---OR the one where Dan's feeling quite sexually frustrated during a camping trip with the rest of the Fantastic Foursome.





	Not On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this last night. Took over two hours, but I'm proud.
> 
> #notashamed

Dan is not on fire.

It's a fact.

_**A list of facts.** _

_1\. Wolves run in packs._

_2\. Ducks say quack._

_3\. Candy is not a snack._

_4\. The earth is turning._

_5\. Dan is not on fire._

Dan is a safe distance from the campfire, but his cheeks burn, his hair smells like sweat and smoke, and flames dance in his eyes. Dan may as well be on fire for all Phil does to him, because he can feel the heat everywhere- in his face, in his chest, in his stomach, in his groin, in his soul.

"Dan!" PJ shouts, snapping the brunette back to reality. "Put that marshmallow out before you start a fire!" Dan quickly removes his flaming marshmallow from the fire, blowing it out. He regards the charred sugar with dismay, but Chris takes the stick and hands him a new one.

"Just a little well done," he explains, removing the blackened exterior. Beneath it is a perfectly white marshmallow, warm and slightly melted. "See?" He pops it in his mouth, moaning exaggeratedly.

"Are you eating it or having sex with it?" Phil asks, and Dan can see his fucking smirk even in the dim light.

"Don't shame me," Chris replies by way of answering.

"That brings a  _whole_  new meaning to food sex," PJ laughs.

"That marshmallow was orgasmic," Chris says simply, earning a laugh from everyone.

Everyone except Dan.

He can't breathe, can't think- not with Phil so close and yet so far away. He blames sexual frustration. Dan hasn't gotten off in weeks; it was bound to come bite him on the arse. He knows all he has to do is ask and Phil would be on his knees in a second, but he can't, not in a place like this.

"You okay?" Phil asks quietly as PJ and Chris get into a debate about the best name for a baby marshmallow.

"I'm fine," Dan mumbles, staring ahead. The flames crackle and pop, and he lets the warmth consume him.

"Your food's on fire again," Phil points out. Dan curses and blows it out quickly. "I'm going to ban you from the campfire if you don't start paying attention," Phil teases.

"See this stick?" Dan asks. Phil nods. "Go shove it up your arse." Dan hands it to Phil and stands. The heat is unbearable.

"Looks like you've already got one up yours," Phil shoots back readily. Dan flips him off, running a hand through his sweaty mess of fringe. The curls are practically soaked, and he can feel the beads of sweat running down the back of his neck, lighting him further.

"I'm going to the lake," he calls loudly. Chris and PJ don't stop their argument- they've moved to something about shipping different foods and what the names would be- and Phil doesn't try to stop him, so Dan heads over to the tent he and Phil are sharing. He grabs a change of clothes- just in case he falls in or something.

It's a five minute walk from the campsite to the lake, and it's sticky and warm. Once he gets there, Dan breathes in the cool air, feeling the breeze as the wind flows over the lake and letting it cool his burning skin. His body quickly adjusts, though, leaving Dan even more hot and uncomfortable than before. He groans in frustration.

The flames lick along the inside of his chest. The smoke fills his lungs. The sweat curls his hair. The heat engulfs his skin. The deadly beauty of the fire entraces his mind as the tongues of orange and yellow dance behind his eyelids.

Dan is on fire.

To put out fire, one must either douse it or smother it, and since Dan can't suffocate himself to quench the flames that so consume him inside, he douses it. He jumps into the lake, and he can practically hear the sizzling hiss as the water surrounds him on all sides. He forces the air from his lungs, letting himself sink before looking up. The moon shines brightly, illuminating the trees above, but is distorted by the surface of the lake as it ripples and moves. He pushes off the bottom, gasping for air and shaking his hair from his face.

The flames of desire that burn within him will not be put out so easily, though.

Dan swims back to the edge, sitting on the bank. He pulls off his wet t-shirt and tosses it into the grass, letting his soaked socks and shoes follow. He hesitates at his jeans, but eventually takes them off and adds them to the pile. It's scandalous, he knows, to wank in a place like this- where people swim and wildlife lives- but the ache is unbearable, so he settles where the grass turns to sand, burying his feet  beneath the cool stuff and resting his head in the grass. He slides a hand beneath his boxers, wrapping his fingers around his cock. The sensation alone is enough to make his muscles clench and back arch, and Dan sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he fights to stifle to moan that threatens to tear from his mouth. It'd be humiliating enough if Phil saw him like this, but a perfect stranger would be his end.

" _Phil_ , " he gasps, imagining Phil's cream hands working him instead. He speed up the pace a little bit, and he can feel the familiar tightening sensation in his stomach as fire engulfs every inch of his body. The heat pools in his gut, the water on his skin evaporates, the sand burns and the grass blazes.

Dan is on fire.

His back arches further as he continues to jerk himself off, thumbing his slit and gently massaging his balls with every other stroke. Dan imagines Phil's blue eyes, dark with lust, watching him fall to pieces as the flames of lust, of desire, of love, consume them both. He imagines Phil's lips parted in arousal, imagines Phil's quick and heavy breathing. He imagines Phil's voice, accent thick and strong as he shamelessly teases Dan into submission, and that's all he can take. Dan slides the fingers of his right hand into his mouth, sucking on them in a vain attempt to keep quiet as he orgasms, the warm liquid spilling across his left hand. He continues to messily stroke himself as he comes down from his high, his breathing fast and hard as he removes his hands from his pants and sits up.

Dan was never on fire.

He  _was_  the fire, but is no longer.

He sinks back into the lake, splashing the cool water over his face. He's thankful that, at least for now, the flames have been contained and extinguished. He floats on his back for a while, watching the moon and simply breathing.

"Hey moon, please forget to fall down," he sings quietly as he stands back up. "Hey moon, don't you go down."

"Sugar cane in the easy morning," a familiar voice sings. "Weather-vanes, my one and only."

"Phil!" Dan yelps, turning to fave the older boy. Phil is sitting beneath a tree, his pale skin brilliantly illuminated by the moonlight, his legs crossed and beneath him. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," Phil assures him. "Only about a minute or so. I came to make sure you were alright while Chris and PJ put out the fire."

"Oh," Dan mutters.

"You've been gone for about an hour, so..." Phil trails off, shrugging. "You looked happy, peaceful, calm and relaxed, so I wasn't going to say anything until you noticed me. You got me with the song, though."

"Want to come swim?" Dan offers. Phil pulls at the hem of his t-shirt pointedly. "Take it off. It's nothing I've never seen." Phil scoffs, and Dan  _knows_  he's rolling his eyes as he pulls off his red NASA shirt and drops it beside Dan's own black  _No Fun_  one. Phil removes his socks and shoes, stuffing his socks into said shoes, before removing his jeans and folding them neatly. He sets his glasses on top of the pile, and slowly enters the cool water. Dan wraps his arms around Phil's neck, resting his head on the older boy's shoulders. He knows Phil was telling the truth about how long he was there- there's no sign of arousal in his body.

"Feel better?" Phil murmurs, rubbing Dan's back gently. "You seemed pretty pissed earlier."

"T'was nothing," Dan mumbles, burying his face in the crook of Phil's neck. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"It's fine," Phil assures him, his fingers tracing over Dan's hip. "I love you."

"I love you too," Dan replies, kissing Phil's cheek. Phil gently directs Dan's head up a bit, kissing his lips slowly. Dan lets his lips part, tasting the stale lake water; the mashmallows, chocolate and biscuits from the s'mores they made; the smoke from the fire; and something just indescribably  _Phil._

Heat encases Dan's body as Phil wraps his arms around him, but he is not on fire.

Phil is here; he keeps the flames of all kinds under control- panic, lust, desire, anxiety, pride, want and sadness are nowhere to be found in this inferno.

Dan closes his eyes, focusing on Phil's touch, his breathing, his everything. Phil pulls back after a long moment, his forehead resting against Dan's.

"We should get back," he whispers. "It was almost two when I left." Dan makes a sound of acknowledgement, and they get out of the water. Silently, they redress, neither complaining about their wet boxers. Dan yawns as they trek back to the campsite, suddenly tired. The fire that had kept him alert has died, and with t has brought fatigue. Phil's fingers intertwine with Dan's, and Dan squeezes appreciatively.

Phil will keep him steady, in all senses.

The campsite is dark by the time they return. The fire is extinguished- both the one everyone could see and the one only Dan could feel. There's a soft light coming from Chris and PJ's tent, and a glow from the torch in Phil's left hand, but otherwise all is calm and dark. Dan and Phil slip into their own tent, quickly changing into dry pyjamas before climbing into their sleeping bags. Dan curls up beside Phil, his arm draped over Phil's chest protectively.

"I love you," Dan mumbles, feeling Phil clasp his hand.

"Love you too," Phil murmurs, his voice thick with sleep already. Dan reaches up blindly and pulls off Phil's glares, setting them in the open case above his head and closing it. "Thanks." Dan just snuggles closer, letting his bpdy slot together with Phil's.

Two puzzle pieces that fit together, creating the perfect picture.

_"You're the only one worth seeing, the only place worth being / The only bed worth sleeping is the one right next to you." ~Cold Cold Man, Saint Motel_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, my lovelies! This is probably my last fic of the year, so...


End file.
